Motion Sickness
by SuperKat
Summary: A Mikey one-shot.


**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I'm just using them because the idea wouldn't leave me alone. I am not making any money off of this. No infringement is intended.

* * *

  
"Hey, hey, Donnie? Are ya done yet?"  
  
Michelangelo, his orange bandana slipping over his tiny, seven-year old face, bounced up and down, eagerly watching his older brother put the finishing touches on his latest invention.  
  
"Almost," said Donatello. His goggles glinted in the damp sewer light. He shut the metal flap, sealed it, and took them off. "Aha!" He cried. "Finished!"  
  
"Yay!" Mikey cried, jumping up and down. "He's finished, he's finished, he's finished! Can we try it now? Huh? Can we, canwe, ca'we? Hey guys," he bellowed, "Donnie's finished 'is – mmph!"  
  
Donnie clapped a hand over his brother's mouth. "Shh," he whispered. "Master Splinter doesn't know about this, and I don't think he'd approve if he did. So be quiet, okay?"  
  
Mikey nodded, his eyes wide. "Donnie," he whispered after he had his mouth back. "What is it again?"  
  
Donatello sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'll explain later, when we get there."  
  
"We're goin' somewhere?"  
  
"Shh. Yeah. We're gunna try it over the whirlpool."  
  
"The _whir'pool_?"

"I said '_shh_.' Keep it down, okay? Yeah. I figured if we tried to fly it in here, Sensei would notice. So we're gunna go to the old whirlpool place. I've got everything set up over there."  
  
"You mean we can f –" Mikey paused at Donnie's glare and lowered his voice. "Fly?" he whispered. Donnie nodded. "Cool."  
  
"Hey guys," said Raph as he and Leo entered the room. "What's goin' on? Hey," he said as he caught sight of Donnie's finished contraption. "Ya' done?" Donnie nodded.  
  
"You guys can come test it with us if you want."  
  
"Sure."

"I get it first! I get it first, I get it first, I ge – "  
  
Donnie and Raph shushed their little brother before his tiny yell brought the sewers down.  
  
"Sorry," whispered Mikey sheepishly.  
  
"Why does he get it first?" Raph complained.  
  
"Because he asked first," Don quickly explained to Raph, not wanting Mikey's indignant look to turn into another yell. "Besides," he said in an undertone, "do you really want Master Splinter to hear him shouting and come see what we're doing?"  
  
"If he hasn't already," said Leo. "You guys, I don't know if this is a good idea."

"Aww," said Raph, "Is Leo scared?"  
  
"No! But Splinter told us we shouldn't – "  
  
"Splinter told us we shouldn' do anythin' without Daddy holdin' our hands," Raph retorted. "We're almost eight now. We can do whatever we want."

"But I don't think..."  
  
"Oh well. Come on, Leo. We've heard it and we're tired you bossin' us around. Are you with us or not?"  
  
Donnie didn't want a simple experiment to turn into yet another brawl between his brothers. He stepped between them, seeing their angry glares turn into fighting stances, and pointed to their youngest brother.

"Can't we save this until later you guys? I really want to do this now, and besides, I think Mikey's about to explode." True to Donnie's word, Michelangelo was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, to hands clapped over his mouth and his eyes glittering with impatient anticipation.  
  
"Come on, you guys!" he cried. "I wanna do it now!"  
  
_"Shh!"_  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Leo sighed, seeing that he was not about to win this one. At least he could keep an eye on his brothers if he went too. "Fine. I'm coming. But I never said this was a good idea."  
  
Mikey all but screamed his tiny lungs out. He jumped up and down, hugged his older brother and was out the door before any of the three young turtles could say anything. Donatello and Raphael lifted the newly finished machine together, and Leo followed them down the tunnel.

* * *

Leonardo gulped. He hadn't realized they were coming here.  
  
Donnie had set up a slanted sort of railway track in the tunnel, just before the place where it opened up to the open space high above the whirlpool. The other three approached the end of the tunnel in awe, but Leo hung back.  
  
Splinter was the only one who knew about his fear of heights, and he intended to keep it that way. A leader didn't gain respect by being afraid.  
  
"Guys," he persisted, "We really shouldn't do this."  
  
"Aw c'mon," said Raph. "We're already here. Ya don't hafta if ya don't wanna, but Mikey, Don and I're gunna do it, right guys?"  
  
Mikey and Donnie nodded eagerly.  
  
Leo folded his arms and sat down. "Fine. I'll... keep an eye out for Sensei."  
  
"Suit yourself," said Raph. "Spoilsport."  
  
"What did you call me?"  
  
"Guys!" cried Donnie. "Guys, keep it down." He motioned for Leo to stay where he was, and, reluctantly, the angry turtle sat back down. "It'll be okay. Leo can watch for Master Splinter, I'll control the glider, and Raph and Mikey can try it. "Here," he said to his bouncing brother in orange. "Put this on." He gave Michelangelo a helmet. "You might need it." Grinning in anticipation, he pressed a button on the side of his machine, and two folded wings popped out of the sides.  
  
"Cool," said Mike and Raph together.  
  
Donnie grinned. He slipped the wheels over the metal tracks. "Okay Mikey," he said, "climb on. There's a seat belt, and a joystick to steer with."  
  
"Yeah!" Mikey cried. He clambered inside, into a tiny seat, looked for the controls and...  
  
"Donnie," he whined. "You put the stick-thing on the wrong side."  
  
"No he didn't," said Raph. "It's on the right side, see?"  
  
"But I can't steer right-handed," said Mikey. "I'd crash. I'll hafta do this." He crossed his left arm over his lap in what looked like a rather uncomfortable manner and grasped the joystick.  
  
"That's 'cuz you're backwards, Mikey," said Raph.  
  
"M'not!" said Michelangelo. "You're backwards-er. You and Donnie and Leo an' Mas'er Splin'er and..." realizing that he had just named everyone he knew, Mikey crossed his arms and 'humphed' as if he had just proved a point. Raphael smirked.  
  
_(A/N: In the new show, Mikey really is left-handed.)_  
  
"It's okay, Mikey," said Don. "You aren't gunna steer much this time anyways. Just push it all the way forward before you start. I have the trajectory mapped and aimed perfectly, so that with your mass and velocity, you shouldn't need to adjust the flight path at all."  
  
"Uh?" said Raph and Mike in unison. Donnie sighed.  
  
"Forget the Science stuff," said Raph. "Let's do it!"  
  
Don shut the door to the cockpit, after assuring himself that Mikey was securely fastened inside. "Stand back," he said to Leo and Raph. "And... one... two... _three_!" he thrust a switch on the tracks forward, and his flying contraption up the ramp and out... out... into the open space over the whirlpool. Michelangelo's whoops were apparent even through the cockpit lid.  
  
Now, while Donatello had the seven-year-old genius to factor in the weight of the glider, the weight of a turtle, and the angle with which to hit the tunnel across the space, he had forgotten one thing: they were, in fact, underneath New York City and sometimes, a various pipe or tunnel from any angle would shoot out a fierce spurt of water. As fate would have it, one did. Donnie's face twisted in horror as he watched the thick stream collide with the side of his invention. The force, while not enough to completely change the direction of his glider, threw it enough off track that a wing smacked against the side of the opposite tunnel. It snapped, and the glider richrocketed back into the open space, spinning and whirling and falling into the space below. Mikey's muffled whoops became screams of terror.  
  
"Help!" he cried, his tiny body bouncing off the sides as he continued to spin. "Guys, help me!" He tried to grab onto the joystick, but with one wing broken, steering did little for him now. Faster and faster and faster he fell.  
  
Donnie closed his eyes as Mikey and the glider plunged. "Guys," he cried, "We gotta help him!"  
  
"How?" asked Raph and Leo at the same time. Leo, completely forgetting his fear, had joined his two brothers in watching Don's glider fall to it's doom.  
  
Two things happened: first, the fabric of the unbroken wing caught against a pipe sticking out of the wall, causing the glider to dangle dangerously about fifteen feet above the whirlpool. Second, a large, furry form shot out of the tunnel in which the three brothers stood, dumbstruck, and practically flew down the side of the open space. None of the boys had had even the slightest clue that their Sensei had been behind them the entire time.  
  
Quick as Splinter was, he did not reach the broken contraption before the wing ripped and it dropped the rest of the way into the whirlpool.  
  
Mikey, now in full-scale panic, waved his arms and yelled until a crack in the cockpit door let in a rush of moving water. He and the metal contraption flipped and tumbled and bounced and jostled against the sides of the room for what seemed like hours. The only thing, it seemed, that hadn't broken was the seatbelt. Unable to escape, Mikey screamed and flailed and gasped, in the process gulping what seemed like a gallon of water.  
  
Just as dizziness from pure terror and lack of oxygen had started to settle in, two strong arms lifted Mikey and the metal wreck from the angry waters. With one swift swipe of his sharp claw, Splinter ripped off the straps, letting Donnie's contraption drop into the water. Somehow, he managed to hold Michelangelo on his shoulder, pat the young turtle on his shell consolingly, carry him all the way up to the tunnel, and give this three remaining sons a sharp, reproving glare at the same time.  
  
"We," Donnie gulped, "are in so much trouble."  
  
Poor Mikey was as pale as it was possible for a turtle to get and shaking violently by the time he and his master reached the tunnel. His three brothers stood back as Splinter set the boy down.  
  
"Mikey?" asked Donnie. "Are you okay?" He looked at Splinter.  
  
"Michelangelo will be fine," their Sensei replied. "He is not injured."  
  
"But, h-he doesn't look so good," said Leo, pointing. "Look."  
  
Mikey was gasping for breath, his eyes wide and two hands over his stomach. He was shaking so hard that standing would have been impossible. Splinter was about to say something when Raphael, an obnoxious smirk on his face, butted in.  
  
"He's just sick 'cuz of all the toilet water he drank, right Mikey?"  
  
Mike's face grew, if possible, even paler.  
  
"T-t-t-toilet water?" he rasped.  
  
"Well, yeah," said Raph, as if it were obvious (apparently, to Michelangelo, it wasn't). "What do ya think goes in the sewers? Don't ya know what humans do in their toilets, Mikey?"  
  
Mikey's eyes grew wide. He clapped a hand over his mouth.  
  
"But that water gets cleaned before it reaches the main pipes," said Don. "The water here has mostly been filtered."  
  
"Mostly," said Raph, smirking.  
  
Leo couldn't resist. "Of course," he said to his trembling brother, "It's not just toilet water that's down here."  
  
Mike's eyes widened further.  
  
"Nope," said Raph, "It's street water. From the sidewalks an' the gutters, an' the subways..."  
  
"Humans' dirty shoes and trash..."  
  
Donnie, kindly, peace-loving Donnie couldn't help but join in. "Sometimes a little pigeon or squirrel dung gets mixed in there too. And oil or gas from cars and auto shops... did you ever wonder what happened to the ooze that created us? Maybe there's more..."  
  
"And.."  
  
"_ENOUGH_," said Splinter firmly. The three brothers closed their mouths, but it was too late. Mikey had crawled to the edge of the tunnel, one hand on his stomach and the other on his mouth. Donnie cringed, hiding his eyes, Leo wrinkled his beak and Raph smirked as retching noises filled the stale air. Splinter could barely contain his anger. "Go back to the Lair, right now," he ordered his three sons. "We will discuss this further when Michelangelo and I return."  
  
The boys obeyed.  
  
"Michelangelo," said Splinter. His voice was softer and more comforting. He placed a furry hand on Michelangelo's shell, taking the initiative now that the young turtle had stopped heaving. "Are you all right, my son?"  
  
Mikey gasped for breath, his tiny fingers clutching the end of the tunnel. He was still trembling too hard so speak. He nodded.  
  
"Good." Splinter decided that scolding the poor boy would do well to wait until Mikey had calmed down. Any lecture would fall on deaf ears now. He picked up his youngest son and began to carry him back to the lair.

* * *

"I do not know," Splinter said to April, "If Michelangelo would have become violently ill anyway, or whether it was his brothers' taunting him that pushed him over the edge. But since then, Michelangelo has been prone to incurable motion sickness. I have been able to do nothing to help him in this manner. This is my only concern regarding your invitation."  
  
April nodded. "He may still be able to go with us," she said slowly. "I can pick up some Dramamine for him before tomorrow. If he takes it before he gets on the boat, he will probably be okay. Besides, sometimes people who get carsick don't necessarily get seasick... it has something to do with the different kind of motion and the atmosphere over the water. It may not affect him at all. But I'll pick it up for him, no problem. I would really like you guys to come with me; it's been one of my dreams to own a boat, and I think you'll love it."  
  
Splinter nodded.  
  
"I will inform my sons," he replied.

* * *

Mikey spread his arms out into the head wind. A burst of salty sea spray showered over him, but he didn't leave his spot atop the railing at the bow of the boat. He grinned widely as the cool sea breeze tossed the ties of his headband. "Argh, you scabbers dogs!" he cried in his best pirate voice. "Man the sails before I cast anchor in ye!"  
  
April shook her head. "The sails don't need 'manning', wise guy," she said. "They needed 'womaning' but they're fine now. Speaking of which, I'm supposed to ask you how you're feeling."  
  
"Great," said Mikey. "Never better. Can we do this more often?"  
  
"Anytime you guys want. It's lonely sailing alone. But I love the ocean."  
  
"Me too," Mike replied. "I don't see how anyone could get sick out here."  
  
"You're lucky then," said Donnie wryly, approaching them from the back of the boat. "Some of us... uh... aren't having such a great time..." he trailed off, a disgusted cringe taking over his face.  
  
"No way," said Mikey. He jumped down from the railing. "You aren't hurlin', Donnie, are you?"  
  
"No, no," Donatello replied quickly. "Not me. But... um... maybe you should go take a look."  
  
April and Mikey exchanged glances; she looked puzzled while he didn't bother to hide his glee.  
  
"This I've gotta see," said Mike, making his way to the stern.  
  
"I wonder who..." April muttered to herself. "It couldn't be Splinter... could it?" She wasn't paying enough attention to notice that Michelangelo had stopped dead in his tracks. She ran into his shell. "Sorry, Mikey," she said. "I didn't see... oh my..."  
  
"No way," said Mikey, shaking his head. "No. _Way_."  
  
April's eyes were wide. She couldn't speak.  
  
A smirk crossed Mikey's beak. He muffled it quickly at Splinter's reproving glare.  
  
"But... Sensei... _Raph?"_  
  
Raphael straightened with a muttered, "Oh, great." He wiped a hand over his mouth and scowled through his red band.  
  
"No way, bro," said Mikey, clapping his brother on the back. "Sea legs getting' to ya?"  
  
"Geroff me," Raph growled, "Before ya end up on the ocean floor somewhere between here and Long Island." A particularly large wave caused the boat to rock. Mikey all but laughed aloud as Raph leaned over the railing.  
  
"Better luck next time, bro," he said, setting the box of Dramamine on the bench nearby. "Looks like you need this more than I do."  
  
Raphael only scowled.  
  
END


End file.
